#wolfvirago

sae-byeok's breath escapes as a misty cloud into the air, cooling immediately upon making contact with the frigid temperature. in the distance, one might mistake it for exhaled clouds of smoke; a vice sae-byeok hasn't touched herself, except to watch the way a cigarrette turns to ash when lit and left, inhaling deeply to recall the memories of her father and the near-constant glow between his teeth.

but here, the particles mingle in the air with robin's exhale, the same way their lives have meshed, woven together first by circumstance, then by necessity, then by solidarity. the mountain stretches tall above them, so much that the peak of it is hidden behind clouds. it will be a long, cold night.

"we always have been." the irony is not lost on her — the fact that they can sit together with their loneliness makes that loneliness seem less real from the outside — but sae-byeok knows what robin means, feels that abandonment in her bones. the both of them left with the mantle of their family name, and the duty to guard what is left of it.

He'd never tread this deep into the woods, where he had gone to seek quiet console. Now the sun was inching closer to the horizon, and the sky's orange hue was slowly drifting into a cool dark blue. He should have been headed back by now, and yet, he has this itching feeling that he did not know where to start.

Kubo finds a clearing, which he timidly enters and takes a moment to catch his bearings. There's a gaping hole in the canopy where he can see the first stars of twilight begin to twinkle faintly, and his gut stirs with hunger. With a defeated sigh, he sinks to his knees, mulling over his condition.

. . . It's as he does, that another light flickers in the corner of his one eye. There's a snap of twigs, and Kubo turns his head sharply in the direction of the flame. A fox's warm, red coat burns as it stands perched among a pile of rocks.

"H—hello," It was naive of him to think it was just an ordinary fox. It stood, seemingly unbothered by him, as those bright yellow eyes burned into his being. " . . . Is this your forest?"

She was in the presence of something incredibly powerful. All around, books and fragments danced, as if trying to compose new stories from one another's pages, before spinning around to copy each other again and again. A dance that would probably never truly end.

The ruler of this domain stood so tall above her, horns like a halo around her head. Robin couldn't tear her eyes away, wondering just where she had seen a statue-esque figure like this before with those horns...

AH. Right. Oyashiro-sama's statue had the same appearance.

Robin shivered. There was a possibility that this witch could be a god. She wasn't sure if it was Oyashiro themselves, but if it was, she had a lot of questions and demands for the kami that had abandoned her.

"And yet, we break time over and over again with these loops." The wolf finally spoke, not sure what to do with her hands to stop them from trembling. Ultimately, she settled for burying them in her pockets, stance remaining stiff.

"I merely asked how many years I have been repeating 1983. My determination won't waver with the answer... I just want to know how long I have been swimming in blood."

Awareness  concerning  God  of  the  Underworld  presence  could  be  ignored.  As  much  Hades-sama  wished  deeply  having  an  one  to  one  conversation  with  Featherine  Augustus  Aurora,  he  referred  mostly  to  one  perception  of  her  self  in  middle  of  the  Sea  of  Fragments  ---  in  which  herself  admired  the  immersive  story  in  which  she  remained  single  author,  deciding  how  circumstances  would  be,  admiring  all  kinds  of  possibilities  possible,  and  in  which,  an  angry  cat  was  doing  beautifully  her  job  to  keep  her  entertained.  Lamentations  of  an  child  of  man  usually  doesn't  reach  her  attention,  nevertheless,  she  was  one  of  few  who  has  been  at  crossroads  of  circumstances,  and  in  which  her  Miko  has  been  another  time  horribly  cruel.  For  once,  her  wonderful  Miko  refused  to  explicity  expressing  all  the  guts  she  discovered  earlier,  and  pushing  the  knoweldge  down  the  face  of  that  child  of  man  in  same  manner  she  didn't  hesitated  with  last  Ushiromiya  family member.  It  was  so  unlike  her.  Until, understanding  resonated  concerning  the  main  concerned  chessboard  in  question.  Ah,  Hinamizawa,  a  long  time  ago  world  in  which  appreciation  of  the  story  has  been  made  with  an  psuedo-ignorance  she  caused  herself  the  strange  circumstances  of  events.  The  reason  why  one  of  her  cats  was  terribly  angry  towards  her,  who  has  been  abandoned  inside  an  big  world  in  which  she  gained  her  freedom  by  becoming  a  witch  afterwards  find  her  path.  Maybe  hundreds  of  years  prior,  she  would  have  been  offended  by  the  remembrance,  touched  by  all  the  pain  experienced  by  the  players,  having  an  compassionate  note  towards  circumstances  in  which  who  resonated  with  an  vivid  impression  to  be  recent,  no  matter  if  thousands  of  years  actually  passed.

Within  current  circumstances,  the  name  was  nostalgic.

Nevertheless,  reassurance  could  be  made  inside  another  manner.  Her  cat  will  find  her  way  home,  no  matter  if  this  will  take  hundred  of  years  to  find  finally  the  path  initially  taken.  If  blame  could  be  imposed  upon  the  cruetly  of  the  chessboard,  they  weren't  prepared  for  various  chessboards  in  which  her  name  resonated  with  terror.  A  cat's  slyness  towards  her  had  almost  become  a  common  thing,  and  sometimes  with  some,  they  accepted  affection  in  return  as  a  sign  of  forgiveness.  Absence  of  reaction  resonated  towards  her  newest  visitor  in  middle  of  an  half-opened  world  in  which  time  will  have  no  notion  anymore.  Her  long-term  illness  could  be  appeased  when  stories  were  read  to  her,  and  coming  from  current  circumstances,  she  could  allowing  herself  to  heard  perspective  of  one  of  main  character.  Oh,  she  noticed  how  her  appareance  has  been  gauged.  Single  playfulness  echoed  inside  oldest  features  towards  that  action.  She  had  many  names.  She  lived  many  games.  She  experienced  many  chessboards.  She  was  one  of  the  few  to  knowing  how  whole  boredom  aspect coming  from  that  Creator  position,  in  which  another  God  would  want  share  a  chat.  Landscape  of  various  books,  Fragments,  and  these  discrete  clocks  all  around  the  piece  sealing  apart  their  current  position  remained  an  familiar  perception  emotionless  eyes  didn't  dared  to  expressing  themselves  concerning  her  view,  neither  the  one  of  her  visitor watched from afar. 

"You are decidedly not fine, Rika-chan." Robin sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She was gentle but firm in helping the younger girl back up, dusting off her uniform.

"You fainted in the middle of us stepping out of the schoolhouse. What happened?" As far as she knew, Rika was not a sickly kid. She wasn't required to take medicine every few days like Satoko-chan, and she didn't shy away from gym class when they did have it.

So what was going on? Was she sick?

The shifter raised the back of her hand to Rika's forehead, right under the curtain of dark blue bangs, testing her for a fever. The elder's lips worked together into a fine line.

"You're a bit warm. C'mon, let's go over to the water spout and get some cold water on your face."

Tiredness  inside  her  fragile  body  has  betraying  her.  Within  immediate  seconds  of  realization,  temptation  has  been  made  to  expressing  herself  as  the  witch  she  was,  not  as  the  little  girl  she  remained  as  eternal  projection  concerning  her  own  conscience.  Maybe,  recently,  she  pushed  herself  too  far  ---  in  which  she  had  desired  sparing  herself  of  many  complains  of  Hanyuu  inviting  her  once  more  not  to  holding  towards  that  hope  of  an  possible  exit  of  the  big  maze  they  were,  in  which  she  had  desired  offering  herself  couple  of  distractions  before  attempting  once  more  to  stop  the  upcoming  tragedy.  How  long  she  would  have  to  repeat  circumstances,  huh  ?  How  long  she  would  be  trapped  inside  that  maze  ?  How  long  yet  these  circumstances  will  reflecting  back  to  her,  along  with  that  awareness  she  would  be  killed  ?  Inside  such  moments,  absence  of  an  detective  she  crossed  a  long  time  ago  resonated  inside  an  silent  yearning.  Inside  worlds  when  Akasaka-san  was  coming  back,  inside  worlds  when  she  managed  to  transforming  an  etablished  fate,  immense  wave  of  hope  pushed  her  to  keep  going,  not  to  give  up  no  matter  what  …  Inside  worlds  when  Teppei-san  was  the  one  coming  back  ---  she  considered  that  world  totally  dead.  She  was  losing  interest  at  the  second,  since  nothing  would  change,  since  nothing  would  be  able  to  bring  an  difference,  in  which  her  newest  hope  was  the  next  world.

wolfvirago replied : is this. is this my boss-

"Isn't that the thing with the feathers?" She could vaguely remember the poem, feeling it dance about in her mind. It had come from a Western poet's works, a female poet specifically... About hope.

"Hope. The hope that it'll be okay." She had to believe. There was always some part of her that believed more than anything that she would find the miracle she needed to save Rika and the others. It lingered within her core, burning and fostering a flame of magic that couldn't die.

"I have to keep believing. Otherwise, what is this power for? Why else am I a looper, able to dance through these fragments finding the world where my friends and I can live... Not just survive?"

As she cast her eyes upon the strange witch, she somehow knew, way deep down, that she knew Bernkastel. Somehow, they had met once before. Maybe dozens of times.

"I know you. Yes, you've come to me in my dreams before."

Feathers  ?  Did  she  was  making  reference  of  one  of  her  poems  she  came  across  in  crossroads  of  various  Fragments  of  that  chessboard,  in  which  some  chapters  has  been  flattered  by  metaphoric  clues,  and  her  own  thoughts  imposed  over  an  landscape  in  which  she  was  bored  ?  Mocking  sound,  in  which  tiniest  smile  betrayed  partially  her  features,  escaped  her  lips  at  the  simple  remembrance  on  that  word.  That  single  term,  that  single  connotation  of  feathers,  remained  an  eternal  reminder  towards  Featherine  something,  her  disgusting  Master  who  who  had  devoted  herself  so  much  to  the  life  of  her  Miko  that  she  didn't  hope  to  see  the  face  of  this  monster  again  so  soon,  who  sucked  up  thousands  of  years  like  a  parasite  and  who  still  managed  to  get  bored  in  front  of  the  corpses  that  she  brought  her  !  Oh,  of  course,  coming  from  her  current  circumstance  and  location  in  middle  of  the  loop,  maybe  she  didn't  even  known.  Good.  She  wasn't  going  to  let  that  information  appearing  in  middle  of  the  chessboard,  even  if  she  might  be  flattered  to  maybe  having  the  awareness  in  one  way  or  another.  Lambda  would  probably  keep  quiet  in  front  of  the  immaculate  farce  she  was  receiving  in  front  of  her,  like  one  of  her  beloved  candies,  and  would  take  the  opportunity  to  enjoy  the  present  moment,  now  that  she  was  in  the  future  taking  advantage  of  her  place  as  the  loser  of  their  previous  game.  It  would  be  a  shame  if  she  had  to  cut  out  the  tongue  of  a  smooth  talker  Ushriomiya  Battler  who  was  still  annoying  her  with  all  those  good  feelings  ---  Partial  remembrance  concerning  circumstances  surroudings  Rokkenjima  at  current  moment  forced  her  to  return  inside  emotionless  features.  Featherine,  Featherine,  Featherine,  she  had  a  chance  of  giving  that  disgusting  Master  so  much  trouble  that  confront  her  p  a  s  t  pissed  her  off.

❝  A  feather  ?  It  breaks  down  so  quickly,  each  feather  pulled  out  piece  by  piece,  it's  much  less  solid  than  a  dice  or  a  well.  ❞  She  bounced  back  with  amusement  on  her  voice,  in  which  self-controlling  tone  searched  not  exposing  kind  of  undelicate  emotion  she  won't  be  able  to  hold.  She  didn't  wanted  to  see  happy  face  of  Lambda  admiring  the  nicer  landscape  in  the  world.  She  didn't  wanted  to  know  Alois  jumping  in  joy  to  been  able  to  admire  such  expressions  ---  oh,  poor  boy,  you've  has  been  spared  of  so  much  beautiful  emotions  expressed  inside  such  face  …  ignorant  fool  ignoring  how  her  own  Master  was  also  one  of  the  culprit  of  his  own  chessboard.  He  should  be  grateful  though.  He  should  be  grateful  she  did  her  best  for  thanks  her  Master  !  Her  name  resonating  within  too  much  pressure  inside  the  Rokkenjima  chessbaord  poor  Battler-san  has  been  horrified  by  her  true  nature  !  Her  name  resonating  as  an  threat,  in  which  an  Master,  no  matter  how  centuries  old  they  were,  remained  an  mere  piece  not  having  even  a  single  moment  detached  themselves  from  Featherine's  grip,  and  believing  hard  sudden  piece  of  hope  would  appear  to  them  among  thousands  of  possibilities  that  would  exist  as  a  path  that  they could  take  for  run.  Such  thoughts  calmed  down  her  mind,  as  she  would  play  with  blindness  of  another  wolf.  ❝  The  frog  in  the  well  was  happy.  It  wasn't  interested  what  was  outside  the  well.  The  frog  in  the  well  was  happy.  It  was  recluse  to  anything  that  happened  outside  the  well.  And  you  were  happy.  Because  you  didn't  know  what  occurred  outside  the  well.  ❞  She  quoted  disdainfully,  appreciating  how  such  poem  resonated.